Chapter 14
the fourteenth chapter
AMOS
I could linger in this moment forever.
This dreamlike inbetween.
Perhaps we will.
“I’ll never get enough of you,” I simper. “Not now, not ever.”
Marco kisses the back of my hand.
“Neither will I.” He winces as he shifts his hip. “Even if it means funding my chiropractor’s next trip to Bali.”
I ease him onto his side.
Gathering an armful of padded squabs from the outdoor sofa and chairs, we line them up along the tiles to create a makeshift mattress.
If we lay close together, there should be enough room for two.
Sure, we could go indoors.
But something about bare bodies beneath the sky fuels the intimacy.
He’s turning me into an outdoor boy.
I reach for his hand.
Then I nod toward the glass.
A liquid nirvana, spilling down the pane.
“That was kind of slutty of us,” I admit.
But I’d do it again.
“See, this is why we need to have day jobs,” he grins. “When we're on holiday, all we want to do is fuck. It’s like we can't stay away from each other.”
“That's not entirely true,” I retort. “We went to a restaurant. We went to the beach.”
“Yeah, and where did I beg you to put your…”
“Baby, how could I resist an invitation like that?”
“You’re weak for me,” he sighs.
“I fucking am.”
“I guess we managed to behave for almost four hours from sunset until…”
“Until we were going out of our minds on the dance floor?”
My rebuttal weakens by the second.
I raise my hands in defeat.
“You’re right, let’s quit our jobs so I can ravage you endlessly.”
“I like this plan,” he says. “I see no reasonable alternative.”
◆◆◆
Our breath falls into sync.
There’s something so profoundly tender about holding one another in the quiet aftermath of passion.
His fingers travel between inky lines as our kiss unfolds.
He’s memorised the story of each tattoo, and learned about a few more.
“No need for blankets on a night this toasty,” he says.
“It is rather warm, isn’t it?”
Behind the towers, dark clouds brew over the sea.
But above us, patches of night sky peek through.
Even with the harsh lights of the neon world below, a small handful of stars can be seen here or there.
Faint, but still visible.
“You, me and the galaxy,” I murmur, forming a telescope with my hands.
“If we squint.” His voice is thick with sarcasm.
“No... look, there's Ryan's Belt.” I trace a path in the air. “The one with three in a row.”
Marco’s inhale is deep.
Raising himself onto one elbow, he suppresses a smile.
“Mr Vale…”
“Uh oh.”
I recognise that tone.
“Time for a little astronomy lesson.”
“You want to… oh…”
He straddles me, one finger drawing a slow sensual line between my hips.
“Orion's Belt,” he laughs. “But not bad for a city boy, I guess.”
“City boy huh?” I pinch his nipple. “You're more of a city boy than me, with your espresso shots and your fancy wheels.”
His laughter fades a little.
He looks out beyond the haze of the buildings, then back to me.
It seems as though there’s something he wants to say.
Words on the tip of his tongue that refuse to budge.
But all he manages are three.
“I wasn't always.”
“No? You grew up on a farm?”
His smile carries a hint of sadness.
And then he continues the lesson.
“Such a disruptive student,” he scolds.
I sit up straight to give my handsome professor a kiss.
“You have my full, undivided attention,” I whisper.
“Good,” he mouths, his gaze ardent. “Venator caelestis. It means hunter in the sky. The Greeks said Orion was a giant hunter, chased across the galaxy forever. Those three stars in a line are called Alnitak, Alnilam, and Mintaka. I used to memorise them as a kid.”
I’m so turned on.
But Mr Smarty Pants isn’t done.
“Alnilam’s the brightest of the three. See how it sits almost perfectly centered? They look close enough to touch. I guess they’re some of the only stars that are visible in such a brightly lit location. But they're between roughly 800 and 2,000 light-years from Earth.”
For a moment, we simply look up.
Hands clasped, we marvel at the veiled cosmos above us.
I’ve never seen this side of him before.
And I find it hot as fuck.
Wrestling him onto the cushions, I pin him in place.
“So apparently, the man I wake up next to most mornings, the man I fall deeper for every day, is secretly a Harvard level astronomer.”
He’s flustered all of a sudden.
“I'm sorry, I nerd out a little when anyone mentions constellations.”
“As you should.” I kiss him on the cheek. “I like it.”
“One day I'll show you the real night sky,” he promises.
“The real night sky?”
“The one I know. Colours that sweep above you like a painted canopy.”
I notice the way his face lights up when he mentions it.
“I love getting to know all these different layers of you,” I smile.
At first Marco is quiet.
His thoughts drift someplace else.
But when he speaks, his voice holds a new kind of gravity.
“Did you mean what you said before?”
“That you went to Harvard?” I laugh. “No.”
“That you're falling deeper for me every day.”
I bury my face in his chest.
I can’t deny how I feel, not anymore.
A slow nod confirms it.
A squeeze of his hand.
Marco's eyes are glistening when he squeezes back.
◆◆◆
A rumble echoes in the distance.
“Was that your belly?” I tease. “I should feed you. We haven't eaten properly since noon.”
“That was definitely thunder.” He stands to his feet. “Might be a storm coming.”
We walk to the railing, scanning the horizon.
But my eyes divert south.
“Cute butt.” I give him a slap. “Where do we order burgers at two in the morning? You want our usual post-coital feast?”
He nods half heartedly.
His face is solemn.
The storm shifts closer to shore, clouds thickening above us as lightning taunts from afar.
We find the swipe card and rush to put on robes before our food arrives.
Poor delivery guy isn’t ready for that kind of tip.
They probably won't step inside, but I rinse the cum from the outdoor railing just in case.
Marco reassembles the cushions on the seats.
The wind is picking up pace.
Even with the door and windows shut, we hear it wail as we quell our appetites.
“Mmm, so good,” I mumble with a mouthful. “Glad I ordered two each. I'm starving.”
His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“You okay, bub?”
I rest a hand on his knee.
“Uh huh,” Marco replies.
But he’s lost all interest in his fries.
I hope to God I haven’t made him nervous with that confession about falling for him.
Always wait for them to say it first, I remind myself. Damn it.
I scrunch my wrapper into a ball.
Marco is making origami with his.
Hands fidgeting, his eyes remain glued to the window.
He tracks the weather intently.
With every thunder clap he tenses up.
Standing behind him, I ease the knots in his shoulders.
A deafening crack peals above us, followed by an almighty boom.
Windows rattle, lights flickering slightly.
He turns to hide his face in my robe.
“Shit, that was close,” I say. “Must have struck the Q1 Tower.”
A scattering of hail pelts across the tiles outside.
Good thing we came inside when we did.
His face is as pale as a sheet.
I’ve never seen him this scared.
I can feel him shaking.
We cuddle on the couch.
“It's okay,” I soothe. “You're okay.”
I know a panic attack when I see one.
Maybe I should find him something soft to hold.
Something cold or textured to fidget with.
That’s what mum does with Talia.
A cup of water? A blanket perhaps?
Queensland storms are bad enough on the ground.
But up this high?
BOOM!
Lightning forks in the reflection of the tower across from us.
This time there’s no warning.
The lights cut out.
The fridge goes silent.
I reach inside the freezer and hand him an ice cube.
The chill in his palm seems to help ground him a little.
But every time another gust of wind hits, the windows curve inward.
He starts pacing again.
I walk beside him, not quite sure what to say.
Sometimes it’s better to say nothing.
To simply be there.
So I take him by the hand.
“We could go down to the lobby?”
He shakes his head.
Claustrophobic stairwells might be worse.
“Then come with me to the bathroom, my love. There are no windows.”
Gripping my arm, he’s as quiet as a mouse.
“And if we close this door we can't see what’s happening outside.”
A fierce thud ricochets between the buildings.
I cover the tiles with every towel from the shelf, a futile attempt to dull the acoustics.
It’s hitting us from all sides.
Create a diversion, I decide.
“Shower with me?”
“Okay,” he whispers.
◆◆◆
Adjusting the hose, I let the water flow.
Marco tries to slow his breathing, peeling off his robe.
I set my phone down next to the sink, opening a playlist that I sometimes fall asleep to.
Instrumental guitar soon weaves alongside the storm.
We step beneath the water, letting it rain down over our shoulders.
CRACK. BOOM!
His breath is uneven against my neck.
I hold him closer than ever.
As the mirror fogs, the light of my phone reflects like a beacon.
“You’re safe, baby,” I tell him over and over. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He trembles in my arms.
I rock him gently, swaying side to side beneath the warmth.
Squeezing a dollop of shampoo into my palm, I give him some too.
The sweet aroma of coconut and shea butter envelops us.
I lather my hands carefully through his hair, raking my fingers from neck to crown in slow repeated motions.
Foamy circles form under each hand.
His breath calms a little, at least until the next strike.
Rocking and whispering, I thread my hands back and forth through the suds.
It seems to be helping.
Feather light kisses on his lips, a rinse with the hose, bubbles melting down his back.
There we stand while the sky breaks open above us.
My arms are a safe haven from the world outside.
“I've got you,” I repeat. “We can stay in here as long as you need.”
Thunder continues to echo, layer upon layer of sensory assault.
Vibrations shake the mirror and the floor.
Marco begins to sob uncontrollably.
I press my lips to his forehead.
His voice is raw and untethered.
“I... left her behind.”
“You left who behind?”
His body crumples against the shower wall.
His head tilts back, tears running down his cheeks and chin.
“I left her behind,” he whispers again.
I have no idea who she is.
A sister, perhaps? A friend?
Maybe a lover.
Someone who once meant the world to him.
Has the storm awakened a ghost?
I cradle him again, not sure what to say.
“You did what you had to do,” I say. “I'm sure she knew that.”
Steamy water continues to flow across our skin.
We huddle beneath it until the storm loses its sting.
“Let's get you dry and cosy,” I say, bundling him in a thick fluffy towel.
Our skin glows blue as a new song appears on the screen.
The melody soon eclipses all that exists beyond these four walls.
When he turns, the towel slips from his shoulder.
I notice the scars as I often do, trying to avert my eyes.
Who did this to you, baby?
The question has echoed in my mind for months.
With a tender kiss above his brow, I dab his hair dry.
Those three words hover on my lips.
I love you. I love you more than you know.
But I hold my tongue.
For now.
Don't scare him with commitment when he's already shaken, I decide.
We don’t need words.
Not tonight.
All we need is each other.
So instead, I draw a heart on bare skin with my finger.
And Marco, eyes raised to meet mine, draws a heart on my chest too.